


The Executioner's Tale

by Captains_Cove



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captains_Cove/pseuds/Captains_Cove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Other half of my final exam for Mythology in Literature. Wrote a mini-myth using classical greek mythological characters as a base. I don't really ship them, I just thought they seemed right together for this telling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Executioner's Tale

The Executioner’s Tale  
It was raining. 

No. Scratch that. Raining would imply that there was some hope of an end in sight. Maybe if it had let up after the first day, sure, but alas, it had not. It was absolutely pouring and it had been for the last three days. Great sheets of water were coming down so hard, that when caught by the force of the howling wind, the droplets actually became something more like monstrous projectiles. The skies were a dreary gray, and it had been the kind of week where everyone had managed to come up with one excuse or another to stay indoors. Although, it wasn’t as if the village was any kind of tourist attraction, even on the best of days. Hell, market day was probably the only time the townspeople bothered to do much of anything, and that was only on the off chance that the King actually found it in himself to care from one week to the next.

The highlight of activity for these parts over the last couple of months had been centered on the burgeoning efforts of a few ‘concerned’ citizens to try and improve the kingdom’s political situation. Somehow, possibly by fate’s good fortune, tales of these activists’ more ‘daring’ activities had begun to make the rounds throughout the surrounding villages, inspiring more townsfolk to take up the cause--in ever increasing number. 

The King was, naturally, livid. The very idea that anyone under his governance would have the gall to rise up against him was not simply abhorrent but downright treacherous. He ruled his land with an iron fist, as any show of weakness on his part would be inviting the neighboring kingdoms in the northern territories to attempt to usurp his power and his throne. As such, it just so happened that, recently, the King had seen fortune shine in his favor. A young brigand from that self-same northern territory had been apprehended trying to sneak his way into the castle, and as a result, was summarily tossed into the stocks and sentenced to hang at sunset. 

It was with this in mind that the village executioner trudged into the town’s only pub, his waterlogged boots squeaking and squishing as he went. He made his way over to the bar and plopped himself onto a stool without ceremony. His appearance was haggard, which belied his already exhausted countenance and sour disposition. Aside from the fact that the weather was horribly bleak, the man was not known to have had a moment’s peace in months. The King, after all, did so love to make examples of those that defied him, much to the executioner’s beleaguered chagrin. And yet, he was exactly where Gods wanted him: vulnerable to manipulation and easily swayed with the promise of copious amounts of ‘liquid encouragement‘. Aphrodite had been working towards gaining the man’s affection for quite some time, though her intentions towards him were anything but amorous. She had her sights set on the imprisoned thief set to meet the noose in a few hours. Unfortunately, it seemed as though her idiot husband couldn’t get enough of making her life miserable by continuously making it his mission to sabotage her every effort. The man actually had the gall to claim he was doing so all in the name of ‘love and war’. Apparently, he had a reputation to uphold, or some such nonsense as the oh-so-villainous Ares, God of War, and if he let these two obviously hot-headed kingdoms join together in peace, then he’d look bad. Because, Zeus forbid, the mortals wind up not killing each other for once. 

The pompous blowhard. 

And so, here they were, in the guise of random townsfolk and seated on either side of the clueless human, each trying to influence him towards their ultimate, very different goals. Aphrodite knew exactly why the brigand had stolen into the castle, and it wasn’t to create political unrest, even though that’s what the King thought, and ultimately what Ares needed everyone to believe in order to fan the flames even higher. The boy had come to the castle that night in secret to see the King’s daughter; the very lovely, very betrothed Princess, who was set to wed the son of the King of the southern territories. It was to be an amicable arrangement to unite the two kingdoms, but Aphrodite wasn’t having any of it. The Princess was a loyal acolyte and she knew through the woman’s prayers that she did not love this southern Prince, for her heart belonged to the man from the north. The Goddess of Love was never one to back down easily, especially to the likes of her egotistical husband, so she was not about to give up any time soon. Her plan was to convince the executioner to take pity on the poor boy and help him to escape, but Ares was doing everything in his power to convince the man otherwise. As a matter of fact, he’d plied the mortal with so much alcohol, the poor sod could barely stand. Well, she reasoned, if that was how it was going to be, then she was just going to have to take the bull by the horns, so to speak. 

That evening, precisely at sundown, the execution went off without incident. The terrified young man was quietly led to the gallows where he was hung by the neck and left on display in the plaza as a lesson against any further disloyalty. The Princess, though, was oddly absent from the entire affair. Late that evening, once the village was silent and at rest, Ares was making his way from the pub in nothing less than a drunken stupor, when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a horse with two riders sprinting off in the distance. He wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t make out who it was; the princess’ clothing was, after all, hard to miss. Jaw going slack in a state of abject shock and utter confusion, Ares turned towards the gallows only to find--nothing. The thief’s body was gone. There could only be one explanation: he was never there to begin with. Aphrodite had freed him and taken his place. More than likely, the two lovers would wed in secret and then use that as an impetus to broker an accord between their kingdoms.

Of all the insufferable…

Suddenly, before he even had to opportunity to gather his wits about himself, the winds picked up slightly and tickled at his neck, a soft, silken voice whispering at his ear, “nice try, dear husband, but all is fair in love and war….”


End file.
